Painted
by Rainless Thunder
Summary: "Doesn't it feel nice to forget for a change?" He whispered.


**Hi people, this is my first fan fiction in this fandom, so don't hurt me, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji.**

Painted

_She was a marionette with the strings cut then retied. _

A demon. What else?

How else can he be so persuasive and smooth? So seductive?

The endless afternoons spent in the hot tent after every show was where she was most likely to be found. From noon till night she would await his certain touches and smooth words. Ever since Black had joined the show, Beast spent most of her time getting ready and making herself up for him. The first time may have been for information, now she wasn't so sure that was all it was about anymore. She'd even questioned him about his intentions, well meaning or perverse. This answer would always be the same; _it's what you want it to be. _Nights passes so gruelingly slow when Black had to attend to Smile, those nights left her skin starving for his measured touch.

The finest secrets, she'd spilt them in front of him in her most vulnerable state. He'd told her nothing, absolutely nothing about himself. Maybe he had, but all of it had then been lost in the flurry of rust colored blankets, loud heartbeats, and a false sense of security. She'd never told him her birth name, Beast didn't know it herself, she'd had one long ago, and it lay forgotten in the depths of her mind. His name whispered against her skin.

His real name.

"What is it?"

"Seb-"

She wasn't perfect, but Black seemed to be. Beast felt she was chasing something unreachable. But, there she was with her claws firmly dug into their target. Though that target seemed to slowly wriggle free of its so called entrapment. Maybe she'd aimed wrong, an accidental attack? Just who had smitten her? Black; smooth and mysterious, or Joker; carefree and expressive? Beast, wanted to be taken away, away from the problems, by any means necessary. Entertain. _Entertain as long as possible, show them a good show. _The ringleader would constantly press into their minds. As the years passed, Beast had realized she had become the star of the show and at the same time, the one most in need of attention.

"Are you here?"

The act would finish with bowing and endless clapping until they were all backstage. But their act would finish with black garters, leather, and tailcoats on the floor. Her cherry red lips no longer glinting in the sun but faded. Strands of his normally smooth black hair hung haphazardly in his eyes and down the medial of his forehead.

The vivid red color of the tent where they preformed would seldom match the amount of rouge she'd hastily wipe off her face before Black's hands made their way to them. Those flushed, reddened, innocent looking cheeks of hers, oh how he obsessed over them. Just like how he'd press lightly at the paws of a feline. The thought of his black colored fingernails, paired with the odd symbol on his left hand, told her silently of his untold past. The past she'd never questioned.

In truth, she was grateful, grateful for some kind of relief, some kind of escape.

"All for what?"

Black would lie there, Beast straddling him, her body bent parallel above his. He would whisper in her ear, while her hips slowly rolled against him.

Unspoken but silently agreed upon meeting in her private tent after the shows. Every time they met, Beast's need to see Joker slowly dissipated.

"Silly girl." he whispered, his lips brushed against her earlobe.

Her appetite appeared insatiable.

"Silly am I?" her eyes would be half lidded, when she lifted her head slightly to look him in the eyes with a look of naughty contempt. His fingers would skim across the contour of her body, the heavy curves, the base of her leg, where the skin ended and prosthetic began. "Love me."

Beast leaned back down, her lips in line with his. She came closer, her mouth covering his upper lip. They kissed feverishly, one of Black's hands in the tight ringlet curls of Beast's dark hair. The other traveled down her waist, and settled on the waistband of her leather skirt. Her belly would flip each and every time his hand or hands settled there. His hand shifted lower, slipping his thumb beneath the tight fabric and then pushed upwards until the skirt was hitched across her hips.

Her low purr almost a growl echoed in his ears, louder than normal. His fingertips grazed up and down her waist and back.

Black quickly shifted, Beast was now beneath him in the blink of an eye. Her eyes opened wider, she tensed. Black's hands made their way to her face again, a gentle caress, his thumb brushed across her bottom lip, he then kissed her slow, and playful. Her voice quivered and broke each time he pulled away. Beast eased beneath his touch, like she always did after Black did something sudden.

"Doesn't it feel nice to forget for a change?" He whispered.

This similarity felt right to her. Whenever he spoke to her he was always so close to her face, with a voice that sounded saturated with sensuality and smoothness. The low growls and grunts hummed in her ears. She found it incredibly arousing.

The deep sensations and sweet nothings whispered into her ears corrupted her; they did nothing to relieve her of the possible outcomes of giving him that information. She was a mess, and Black loved her for it. Like stripes of a tiger, she was unforgettable. The bare skin of his chest was almost always exposed, just like his extraordinary will to keep focused enough to say how humiliating it was to be this exposed, no matter what Beast happened to be doing, no matter how good if felt.

Just what she was feeling was impossible to convert to words or any kind of language, it was euphoric yet it felt like some kind of burden. She couldn't resist this feeling of elation, if only Black could stay longer. Beast just had an inkling that he wouldn't become a first tier member. Him or Smile. Once again, she chose to not care. What does this have to do with her, as long as she doesn't interfere she'll get out unscathed, right? Was there some kind of conspiracy, she could get sucked into? Maybe she was already involved. Would she be left to pay for the mistakes someone else had made? Only to sacrifice, abandon her and the others for survival? On the outside, she'll always act defensive and apathetic, but on the inside, Beast has realized, she'll always be the frightened, weak, and scared little girl she'd always been.

It hadn't always been this good, well good for a traveling circus anyway. What she wanted was to entertain for a living with no cares in the world. The booming music, and bright colors, and the good natured people in general, made a feast for the eyes and ears, but lately all it did for Beast, was cause a headache. What else could she want? To be back in the poverty ridden streets, nothing to eat but stolen goods, the dirt layered thick against her skin along with the other various unhygienic substances? That was something Beast hoped she never had to experience again; that feeling of abandonment and desperation.

Black had somehow taught her to think almost haughtily, or that's what she thought. Without any talk about it or enforcement of any kind. Black painted her with these endless poisons and lust. The kind Beast partially sought after. The drops of fatal venom leaked from his fingertips. Those wonderful pressure inducing fingers. Just the thought of those long, strong, slim, and gentle fingers that gave rise to a floating tingling sensation in the pit of her belly. The darkness of his eyes, with that slight tinge of red when she felt he was about to let go along with his tightening grip on her waist.

The in the crest of the night, the moon shone high in the sky. Its distinct light, made up of romance and mystery shined down right above the tent. Black would fall asleep in her tent, in her bed, or feign it anyway. Though Beast didn't know that. But she knew there was something different about him. She just couldn't put her finger on it, or her lips. Beast would fall asleep along with him, it wasn't anything romantic in her mind, but she slept with her chest to the bed and her back facing up, Black laid above her, his face snuggled up against the side of her neck, with his left hand splayed across her bare back.

Her dreams and nightmares consisted of anything but happy thoughts, the fake but strong smells of sex, sweat, and blood, drifted in and out of her nose. She could hear the loud growling of her tiger, its roars too loud for her ears. Those growls decreased until they were nothing but the soft breathing of Black, next to her, his nails digging bloody trenches in her back. The pain was little to none. She focused deeply on the small trickle of blood that slid ever so slowly down the width of her waist. Her hands subconsciously clawing at the sheets and gripping them in fistfuls.

The lurid thoughts that flashed through her mind. The endless line of broken images, a falling child, the rope above vibrating from loss of tension, the shrill scream, the sudden spurt of blood, and gleaming claws; the Joker. Beast woke up screaming. She looked around; nothing but messy rust colored blankets, the half opened chest at her bedside, and the absence of the man that usually had his arms secured tightly around her waist. He was no where to be found, in fact she never saw him again. Beast was afraid she was a part of this conspiracy, though she knew her little inkling had led her to something.

In the moments before her death, she could just imagine that good natured smile of the man she'd known since childhood, Joker; and the hands of the man she'd never forget the warmth of; Black.

She did not get out unscathed.

**I hop you enjoyed it, please review, they are appreciated.^^**


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